


Kiss Cam

by chevrolangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Date, Drabble, Embarrassed Castiel (Supernatural), First Kiss, Hockey, M/M, San Jose Sharks, Strangers to Lovers, bc yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chevrolangels/pseuds/chevrolangels
Summary: Prompt: Kiss Cam fluff! Cas is on a date (with not Dean) when the kiss cam lands on him and said date. Date is a dick. Dean being the hero he is, decides to kiss the poor guy. Because the date was an idiot not to.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 308





	Kiss Cam

**Author's Note:**

> [original link!](https://chevrolangels.tumblr.com/post/112332905143/prompt-kiss-cam-fluff-cas-is-on-a-date-with-not)

Castiel sighs, pushing through the crowd. He still doesn’t know how Gabriel talked him into this. Michael was good-looking, sure, but they had exchanged maybe all of ten words so far. At least on Castiel’s part. He had just sat through a dinner where Michael was oh-so-generous as to boast (very loudly) about his career, and the expensive trips he takes, and all of the deals he closes, because he’s a _closer, Castiel_ , he’s a _n_ o _nonsense kinda guy_ ,and _he gets what he wants,_ and blah blah blah…

Castiel had tuned out somewhere between the salad and his hamburger.

“Oh—sorry, whoops—”

“Whoa, careful.”

Castiel was struggling to follow Michael towards their seats, managing to trip over everyone’s legs on the way there. Asshole was on yet another phone call, and of course didn’t notice when Castiel practically fell in the lap of the guy in the seat next to his.

Castiel blinks, finding himself inches away from surprised green eyes, nearly crossed as he tries to look at what collapsed on top of him.

He scrambles up.

"My apologies, I—”

“No—no worries, dude. You’re good.”

The man helps him back on his feet and gives him a shy smile. Castiel’s cheeks flush. 

_Oh no._

"Not used to these narrow aisles,” he mumbles lamely, finally sinking into his seat without further accident.

The guy laughs. 

“Yeah? You not a hockey fan?”

The seat on the opposite side of his is empty, so maybe he’s here alone. Castiel stupidly finds himself hoping he is.

_No. You’re on a date, dammit._

Castiel shakes his head.

“Oh no, I am—just never been to a game before.”

The guy raises an eyebrow.

“Well, believe me. You’re in for a treat.”

Castiel bites his lip, fighting his smile. The guy quickly coughs and looks away, his cheeks slightly pink.

Castiel hastily looks away too, and decides to focus on the ice, so he’s not tempted to ogle the man next to him. The players are out for their pre-game warmup, and Castiel watches as the players do lazy loops around the goal, shooting on the net.

He taps his fingers together, glancing to his right. Michael is still chattering away, completely oblivious. Castiel rolls his eyes.

“So you, uh…you with him?”

Castiel whips his head around so fast he’s lucky he doesn’t break something.

Green Eyes is trying (and failing) to act nonchalant, one hand twisting nervously into the loose material of his jeans. Castiel swallows.

“Blind date,” he says, making a face. The guy snorts, glancing briefly at Michael before smiling at Castiel.

“Guy’s an idiot, then. If he can’t realize how lucky he is.”

Castiel blinks. 

Wait, that was flirting. That was totally flirting.

But before he can respond, a tangle of limbs pushes past him, and Castiel hurries to lean back, trying to get out of the way as much as possible.

The guy next to him whacks the newcomer on the legs, giving him a little push towards the empty seat on his other side.

“Jesus, Sammy, can you not be a complete bull in a china shop—”

“Oh, quit whining—”

“You got beer all over my jeans, Jesus Christ—”

The two start squabbling happily, and Castiel slumps down in his seat, the moment lost. He chances a look at Michael again, but nothing’s changed there.

The buzzer sounds for the start of the game, and Castiel sighs, settling back to watch.

And as they progress through the periods, Castiel decides it’s not too bad, considering some of the dates he’s been on. 

Okay, he’s lying. 

It’s awesome. 

The one good thing about stupid rich Michael is the amazing seats he got them—they’re practically right up against the glass—a completely different experience from his usual position on his couch, shouting at the TV with Anna. 

This is indescribable. Probably something about the 10,000 other people shouting with you, cheering and hollering and booing at the refs and players alike. And it might be an added bonus that every time the Sharks score, the guy next to him whoops and gives Castiel a high five. 

And that really should not make him as excited as it does.

  
The buzzer sounds again, and the dull noise of the crowd quickly settles, 20 minutes to go until next period. Michael has finished his calls and is texting now, so Castiel watches awkwardly as the Zamboni glides across the ice, contemplating taking out his own phone. He’s too much of a chicken to strike up conversation with the guy next to him again.

The crowd around him suddenly explodes into laughter and cheers, and Castiel frowns, looking up.

Kiss Cam, up on the Jumbotron. A blushing girl and an even redder guy share a quick peck, parting quickly, before the camera switches to an adorable older couple, who ham it up and make a big show of their kiss. 

Castiel smiles as the various couples point and laugh, before leaning in to share a kiss. They even show two of the players on the bench, and #19 gives #44 a kiss on the helmet, much to everyone’s delight.

Then the camera switches, and it takes Castiel a moment before he recognizes his own face.

His _face_ , plastered up on a Jumbotron, with Michael texting next to him. For everyone to see. 

“Oh my god,” Castiel whispers.

Then the laughter starts.

"Oh my god,” he groans again, burying his face in his hands.

 _Kill me now_ , he thinks. _Seriously. God himself, come on and strike me down_. 

Anything but this.

“Um, hey.”

Castiel looks up. To his eternal embarrassment, the camera’s still on him, the entire arena in hysterics at this point. But there is also Green Eyes, staring at him intently.

"So, uh.”

He shrugs.

“Whaddya think?” He asks, his eyes twinkling.

  
Castiel doesn’t answer.

He just grabs his shirt and pulls him in.

He doesn’t hear the explosion of noise that follows. He doesn’t hear the whoops and the cheer and the applause. All Castiel is aware of right now is that he is kissing an extremely hot stranger, an extremely hot and _nice_ stranger, who smells really good and is tugging on his hair a little and holy _hell_ —that was definitely tongue.

They finally break apart, and Castiel doesn’t dare open his eyes.

”Damn,” he breathes.

"Seconded,” the guy whispers back.

“Castiel.”

Oh. 

Shit.

Michael’s voice comes from behind him again, hard and angry.

"What the fuck?”

Castiel opens his eyes, but he doesn’t look away from those eyes.

"Michael,” he says shortly, setting his jaw. "This date is officially over.”

The guy grins, and behind him, Castiel hears Michael scoff and storm off, the crowd booing him out.

Green Eyes tugs on his wrist, laughing slightly.

”So, um.” 

He bites his lip.

“What’s your name?”

Castiel slips his hand down to squeeze his, laughing too.

“Castiel,” he says. “But you can call me Cas.”

“Okay, Cas,” he says, dipping down to whisper against his lips. “I’m Dean.”

Castiel’s _nice to meet you_ gets lost as Dean kisses him again, even though the camera has long since moved on at this point. And despite the exaggerated gagging noises coming from what (Castiel later learns) is Dean’s brother, the rest of the night turns out to be one of the best of his life.

He gets back home that night with Dean’s phone number in his pocket, an angry voicemail from Gabe—

(And maybe a couple hickeys, but who’s counting?)


End file.
